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But I held back, not wanting to cross any line, not yet. There would be time for that later. For now, it was enough just to stand with her in my arms. Even though my heart was ready to compose an entire album with songs just about her.
I was ready to tell her soul that we breathed the same air, that her light had saved me from the darkness of the crash and all that came after. This woman had a way of finding the sun even on the gloomiest days.
It was so simple: I loved her and wanted to spend eternity by her side. I just didn’t know when to confess my feelings. There was so much going on outside the little world we had built. I feared that my declaration would tip the delicate balance between us.
But the truth burned within me, aching to be released. I wanted to lay my soul bare before her and hope she might keep it safe. The time wasn’t right, but that moment gave me hope. Someday, I would find the courage to show her the full depth of my love. Our relationship was built on simple things: stolen glances, shared music, and inside jokes that only we understood.
Our souls had already kissed a thousand times, so even if our lips never met, I knew our hearts were tethered, bound by a love that was pure, deep, and transcendent. And that was enough.
Chapter Sixteen
Seraphina
(Now)
It’s common knowledge that black cats are unlucky, but I would like to argue that. My kitty Salem was in fact my good luck charm. Sounds crazy, but it’s true. How do I know? Last week he ran away from home and got hit by a car. We had to put him down. Now my life is literally upside down and sideways. I might need something to clear this bad juju.
First, Brahms came back into my life. Then some patients got ticked off by the new schedule—they only wanted me for some reason. What’s so great about me? We have other qualified therapists.
The bank started foreclosure proceedings on the property, even though we’re finally current on our payments. Something about not owning the property and having to reapply for the loan—or pay in full. Seems like I inherited the debt, but they can’t keep it open since my father is dead. I think they should’ve said that from the beginning. So now I’m scrambling, applying for loans and grants to save the center. And to top it off, Evita had some personal emergency and took time off, so I’m stuck dealing with . . . everything.
I rub at the vise-like tension gathering at my temples. This headache has been building for days as stress stacks upon stress. It’s a throbbing knot behind my eyes, pain radiating down my neck. I keep working through it, chugging caffeine and praying for relief.
Massaging my forehead, I look at the new message from Mr. High Maintenance. Just the notification noise ratchets up my headache.
Brahms: How much will you charge me to keep the pond area private?
I stare blankly, not comprehending through the pounding ache. What does he want now?
Sephie: Excuse me?
Brahms: I saw people there earlier. I didn’t like it. I want you to close the place to the public.
I try not to freak out, but how much can he see from the den? It’s been forever since I was up there. Inhaling slowly, I reply.
Sephie: You can see the pond from there?
Brahms: Yes, quite clearly. Don’t you remember? I need that to be my private space for therapy and relaxation. Name your price.
He doesn’t need to pay me to do it, but I can take advantage of the request.
Sephie: Free my weekends.
Brahms: Ha! That’s not going to happen. I heard the movers will be in your house soon. Since you’re coming in today, let’s have dinner together.
I stare at the men and women who are packing the essentials I need to take to the other house. The person in charge made a list of the things that would be easier to buy and install immediately. I keep forgetting the power the Ehrenbergs have. They snap their fingers and things get done. No questions asked.
Brahms thinks that’s going to happen with me, but he’s never going to get to me again.
Sephie: After everything I’ve done today, I’m not in the mood to cook or have dinner with you. I’m turning in early.
Brahms: I’ll prepare food for you.
Sephie: With one hand? I would pay to see that, but . . . it’s not worth it.
Brahms: We’ll have a professional chef to cater to you.
Sephie: What happened with not letting anyone know where you’re at?
